In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life; it goes on.
ROBERT FROST
I recently came across a video on YouTube from a fellow who had a life altering event. He witnessed his neighbor die from a heart attack next door. It brought home to him the crushing reality of memento mori. We all must die, and we can go at anytime. This made the fellow decide what he wanted to do and not do with the rest of his life. I don't agree with everything on his list, but his life is not my life. What I did agree with was the idea of deciding what to do with the time you have remaining. Here is my own list of what I want to do and not do with the rest of my life.
DO
1. Live the devout life.
The great project in life is to become a saint. It always bugs me when people decide to be more intentional with their mortal lives and blah blah blah, but they never mention their faith or religion. Most of their goals, intentions, and regrets are focused entirely on enjoying what remains of their lives. Fools!
I am not a fool. I know that the best life is a tragedy if it ends in Hell. The goal is Heaven. Anything short of that is a failure. For me, I intend to spend the rest of my days growing deeper in my life of prayer and devotion to the Lord. My faith is where I find the greatest comfort and purpose as I contemplate what is ahead.
2. Spend as much time as I can with my wife.
I already spend time with my wife, and she almost lost me in 2018. She is the person that matters most in my life. I am old and busted up, but I am still alive. I pray that God takes me first. Life without her is a cross that I do not wish to bear. Until we part, I want to make every day count.
3. Work.
I love working. Somewhere in the path of my life, I learned to turn work into something more than what you do for a paycheck. My TBI has dramatically diminished my capacity for work. The time I used to spend on the day job is now spent in a dark room with my eyes closed. I call this the "down payment on death." It is not what I wanted for my life, but it is what it is. I work for brief periods of the day on chores and errands around the house. That list of chores is my barometer for recovery, and my recovery is barely noticeable. I tell people that I am building a sand castle one grain of sand at a time. I pray daily for God to remove this thorn from my flesh. Until then, I do what I can within the limits of my injury.
4. Write.
The only thing God spared in the accident is my ability to write. Writing is the only thing that I consider to be a natural gift. I have no clue why God gave me this gift or spared this gift. I have given up trying to understand God's mysterious ways. What I know is that I have to continue writing. I have settled into writing a weekly post for this blog and a monthly post for my wife's blog. I have no ambitious plans for writing books or any of that. Since I expect Google to end this platform at some point, my Plan B is to write longhand entries in notebooks and journals that no one will read. Writing is good therapy for the brain, so I will continue with it even if it earns me no pay or prestige.
5. Walk.
Walking was the gift I received from my accident. I had to learn to walk again, so I do not take that for granted. I enjoy walking, and it pairs well with my writing life. I regret that it took an accident and half a century of my life to discover the wonderful benefits of walking. Walking is the one thing that brings me some relief from the torture of my brain injury. For 15 minutes or so post-walk, I am a pleasant person with a small boost of energy. It is the old me paying a visit. I just wish it was permanent.
NOT DO
1. Collect toys.
I live in a place where buying boats, fancy cars, Jeeps, RVs, ATVs, and motorcycles on credit equates to life achievements. I have never been into this idiocy. I never will be.
2. Go on frivolous trips and vacations.
Some people decide that they should spend money on experiences instead of possessions. This is also idiocy. Basically, these people blow a year's worth of disposable income on a cruise or a trip to Vegas. I have never been into this idiocy either. I never will be.
3. Blow money on expensive pleasures and entertainment.
Some people dial it down to just eating weekly at expensive restaurants or going to concerts and shows. I wish I could say I have never been into this idiocy, but I was young and single. Now, I eat simple fare at home and get my entertainment from the radio as an old and married man. Nothing I have ever done in my life has brought me as much joy as those simple pleasures at home.
4. Pursue bucket list adventures.
Climbing Everest, thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, completing a marathon/ultramarathon/Ironman, or jumping out of a perfectly good airplane are things I do not care to do. Obviously, brain damage has torched those vanities, but I certainly would not do them if I was miraculously healed. Life is short enough and miserable enough without making it shorter and more miserable.
5. Get rich or die trying.
Getting rich is the ultimate vanity. For some reason, people think they have failed in life if they don't become millionaires. I already have everything I want and need in life. Once your material needs are met, you should realize that you can't take it with you. I will live a modest lifestyle and save for future needs, but I don't care beyond that. Money is a poor substitute for happiness.
Conclusion
The bottom line is that I am going to spend the rest of my life pursuing the quiet life. This is the opposite of all those people who want to go out in a blaze of glory. I think the real adventure comes after death. In this life, I am a nobody, and I think being a nobody is the best way to live. If my time remaining is long or short, the program remains the same. I know what I am about, and I am not changing a thing.
